


Faces in the Dark

by starstruck1986



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 03:52:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstruck1986/pseuds/starstruck1986
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title: Faces in the Dark<br/>Prompt # Halloween party/bonfire night at the Weasleys. Harry, vanquisher of dark lords and comrade to Hogwarts ghosts is, surprisingly, easily frightened.<br/>Pairing(s)/Character(s): Harry/Ron/Charlie<br/>Rating: NC-17<br/>Summary They all have daemons. Harry wishes his weren't so... present.<br/>Word Count: 2,127.<br/>Warnings/Content: Incest, swearing, mentions of trauma, paranormal activity, rimming.</p><p>Written for samhain_smut 2012 on Livejournal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faces in the Dark

“What's the matter?” Ron muttered, his voice thick with sleep.  
  
Harry shook his head, feeling droplets of sweat fly with the motion. His throat was burning from the scream which he'd let out as his nightmare had come to a crescendo, jerking him out of sleep and waking up his bedmate in the process. The only thing he could hear was the harshness of his own breathing. Without even feeling the cold, Harry began to shiver.  
  
“Hey,” Ron murmured. Harry jumped when a hand touched his shoulder. “It's all right. I've got you.”  
  
Harry said nothing as Ron struggled upright, pushing the sheets away, and eventually enveloped him in his arms. A kiss pressed into his temple.  
  
“I hate Halloween,” Harry breathed, unable to stop his eyes darting into the corners of the room, searching for the monsters which had been chasing him in his dreams.  
“I told you it was a bad idea to watch those films. Bloody George,” Ron groused.  
“It wasn't the films.” Harry heard the dullness of his voice. “It's just... tonight. Halloween.”  
  
Ron squeezed and Harry leant back into his body, daring to close his eyes for just a second before they sprang open again, terrified of what they might find when he could focus to see again. There was a sigh from behind him and then a quiet murmur. Soft light rose up around them from a few select candles that Ron had lit.  
  
“There's nothing there,” the redhead whispered. “Nobody but me and you.”  
  
Harry leapt out of his skin when a knock thudded on the bedroom door.  
  
“Oh, for fuck's sake,” Ron breathed.  
“I heard someone scream?”  
  
Charlie's bed-head tousled hair appeared first around the edge of the door, and then his face came into view, blinking away sleep. Even in his weariness, however, there was still an alertness which Harry found soothing. The older Weasley stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind him. He ignored the fact that both Harry and Ron were mostly naked and plonked himself down on the end of the bed with a yawn.  
  
“What was it this time?” he asked.  
“Ghosts,” Harry said. He stared at the wall, hoping that neither of them would ask him any further questions.  
“We live with ghosts every day,” Ron whispered. “They can't hurt you.”  
“These ones could. Like being... being possessed by him again.”  
  
A hard shudder ran through him and Harry held his breath, trying to make the sensation pass, trying not to feed the fear.  
  
“I wish you'd just take the bloody Dreamless Sleep,” Ron huffed.  
“It doesn't work. It just... it just traps me in the nightmares. I can't wake up then because I'm sedated. Do you know how fucking scary that is?”  
“I know what it's like to be mad and not in control of yourself,” Ron offered darkly. Harry dropped his eyes to the red scars winding over Ron's forearms. “I know it's not nice, Harry. I'm just saying... if you'd just look into it, there might be something out there that could help you instead of hurting you. Not every potion's the same.”  
  
Harry said nothing and kept his eyes on the wall.  
  
“Some of those films tonight were really fucked up,” Charlie offered. “Muggles produce some really weird shit.”  
“I told George they were a bad idea,” Ron agreed. “Some of them were just plain sick. No wonder he's having nightmares.”  
“Don't talk about me like I'm not here,” Harry snapped.  
“Well, be here then.” Ron's voice was tight. “Snap out of it, Harry. You know it's no good for you to go down this route. It's Halloween, yes. But they're still all dead.”  
“They're closer, though... can't you feel it?”  
“No, Harry, I can't feel it.”  
  
The upset rising in Ron's voice was plain and Charlie shot Harry a warning look. However bad his nightmares were plaguing him, Harry was not fool enough to dismiss the fact that Ron had only recently started to surface from what had been a nasty bout of depression and, oddly, even though it was three years since the Battle of Hogwarts, shock.  
  
“This is daft,” Charlie announced finally. “It's late. Go back to bed and have a cuddle, the both of you. It'll make you feel better. Leave the candles on; it's still dim enough in here to sleep. Just let the other relax you.”  
  
Suddenly swamped with guilt, Harry looked up as Charlie eased himself off the bed.  
  
“I'm sorry for waking you up.”  
“I wasn't really asleep.” Charlie shrugged. “You're not the only one who hates tonight, kiddo. You're not the only one who feels what's out there. I nearly shat myself coming along the landing because your bloody cat crept up on me.”  
  
Despite himself, Harry laughed at the thought and he could feel the shakes of Ron's chest behind him.  
  
“Stay here then, in case the cat attacks you.” Ron sniggered.  
“This bed isn't big enough for three.”  
Ron gave a snort. “Never stopped you before.”  
“No, s'pose it hasn't, really.”  
  
The mattress bounced as Charlie threw himself down on his back. Harry looked at his frame, all burly and stretched out, clad only in flannel checked bottoms and a holy t-shirt. The smell of him seemed to calm Harry's blood. Again, the guilt came. The relief didn't come from Ron like it did from Charlie. And Ron, for all the hard work and shouting it had taken to reach the point where they sat in the bed that night, was his mate - his all-encompassing, 'couldn't-cope-without-you' soul mate.  
  
Perhaps, Harry decided, it was because he was too worried about Ron to fully take comfort from him. Ron had his own daemons. Charlie appeared to have none.  
  
“Am I going to get a repeat of that night last Christmas?” Charlie asked, a playful smile tugging at his lips.  
“Cheeky sod,” Ron muttered.  
“Oh, little brother, anyone would think you hated every minute of it.”  
  
Ron's cheeks coloured and Harry turned his face away so his smile would go unnoticed.  
  
“But no...” Charlie went on, propping himself up on one elbow. “No, you enjoyed it far too much.”  
  
Only when Ron let out a gasp did Harry look and see Charlie's hand disappearing down in between Ron's legs. He supposed that he should have been more disturbed when he had seen Ron and Charlie kiss for the first time; should have run screaming when he saw them touching each other's cocks and licking them. Should have closed his eyes and pretended it never happened. The sight had been so fucking beautiful however, that Harry couldn't be or do any of those things. Instead, he had taken the sight to heart as one of the most thrilling he had ever seen. His heart began to thud thinking that he might be treated to it again.  
  
“But I don't want that tonight,” Charlie announced. Harry's hopes evaporated into thin air. “Tonight... tonight I just want to watch you two.”  
“What if we don't want to perform?”  
“You will.” Charlie smirked and reclined back, his hands behind his head.  
“You will,” Harry agreed, and turned onto his knees, putting his hands to Ron's shoulders. He pushed him down onto his back.  
“Will I?” Ron challenged, but his eyes had a glint to them.  
“You will,” Harry repeated, and smothered anything else Ron wanted to say with a kiss.  
  
He pressed his entire weight into Ron's body and trapped him. The tension from his nightmare remained, but with each further lash of Ron's tongue against his own, it turned into more of an energy, heating his muscles and bones until he was panting against Ron's mouth.  
  
“Feeling better?” Ron teased.  
“Much.” Harry grinned, sparing Charlie a glance to their side. His eyes were fixated on them.  
“I know a way to make you feel even better...” Ron went on, sliding his hands down Harry's back to settle them on his bum cheeks. He pulled them apart.  
  
Harry squirmed as the cool air of the room hit the hot skin, and jumped when a wet tongue lapped against his hole.  
  
“Fuck, when did you move?” he groaned, tipping his head back and allowing his jaw to drop as Charlie rimmed him. “How did you even... nngh.”  
  
Ron laughed and captured his mouth again, bringing one hand up to pull on his hair. Charlie progressed to tongue-fuck him, sliding his tongue in and out of the hot ring of Harry's sphincter. He allowed himself to melt into the sensations, enjoying the heat emanating from the two bodies which rendered him immobile. He felt so far removed from the quivering wreck that he had been on waking that he decided that sex would always be his answer from then on. When Charlie's hands landed on his hips and dragged him, Harry let himself go. He wriggled on the bed as light fingers touched his sides, tickling him. A laugh escaped him, and then Ron laughed in response and kissed him. Harry opened his eyes and looked into Ron's mirroring ones. Relief was written there – relief that Harry could laugh again.  
  
“I'm sorry,” he whispered. “For the...”  
“Harry... if we could control everything in this life, there would have been no war, everyone would have been alive, and we would have sex every single day.” Ron shook his head ruefully. “Don't be a daft prick.”  
  
They kissed and Harry closed his eyes, comforted by the way that there were no lingering faces on the inside of his eyelids.  
  
Only, when he opened his eyes, it was much, much worse. He opened his mouth to scream and saw Ron's face fall as the sound ripped through the room again. Harry punched and shoved, desperate to move, to get out. Ron was slow to react, his thin body absorbing most of the blows until Charlie pulled him out of the way. Harry leapt up, staring wildly around at the ghostly figures all around them. The faces of the dead stared at him, their eyes hollow and melancholy. Their eyes were all directed upon him. They didn't seem interested in Ron or Charlie or anything else in the room. Except him. Their exclusive obsession made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck and arms.  
  
“Please...” Harry didn't really know who he was begging, or why he was asking. He didn't know what he was asking for. “Can't you see them?” He rounded on the two Weasleys who were bewildered on the bed. “They're all fucking here.”  
“Who're here, Harry?” Ron asked hoarsely, through a bleeding lip.  
“Everyone,” Harry breathed.  
  
“Harry, nobody's here,” Charlie said, his voice firm. “Nobody but me, and Ron, who you've just beat the shit out of.”  
“I...” Harry faltered, stopping to look at the spirit close to him. It was only then that he realised it was someone he didn't even recognise: a young gentleman, dressed in old fashioned clothes, with waxed hair and a moustache. “Who are you?”  
  
The spirit didn't answer him. None of them did. They simply stared, fixated on his person.  
  
“Harry.” Ron's hand cupped his cheek. He was pale and the brightness of the blood streaming down his chin made vomit rise at the back of Harry's throat. “Harry, there's no one there. Look at me. Please.”  
  
Harry allowed each freckle on Ron's face to come into focus. He looked at his eyes, where the relief had vanished to be replaced with fear.  
  
“There's nobody to see, Harry,” he whispered. “Or if there is... we can't see them.”  
“Then why the fuck can I?”  
  
Ron shook his head and gave a little shrug. “I'm here, Harry.”  
  
Harry looked over Ron's shoulder. The spirits had vanished. His knees weakened. He was lucky, after the punches, that Ron was able to catch him. Thin arms encircled him again, and there, in that moment, Harry wanted nobody else, no other smell to fill his nostrils.  
  
“I'm sorry,” he whispered into the skin of Ron's neck. “I'm sorry.” He kept on repeating the words, desperate for them to be accepted, for Ron to forgive him.  
  
Ron, however, didn't answer him. Harry suspected that he couldn't.  
  
There was a soft click as Charlie closed the door behind him. Neither of them moved.  
  
  
 _-fin-_  



End file.
